Lost
by Ornery Otter
Summary: He died surrounded by the people he'd fought for years to save. Darkness could spread into the hearts of the people if they lived in it long enough. His death triggered his return in time though, but now he's not so sure if anyone can be saved at all.
1. Chapter 1

((Hey there. I know I don't post much up here often, and I can't promise that I will. I've had a lot of health & job issues over the last few years. This little thing is the first piece of inspiration-sourced writing I've written in probably a year now... so I'm pretty rusty and its likely not great, but I wanted to post it up here anyway. I wanted to pursue the idea of someone going back in time - but in this case they'd enacted the magics some time ago, and were no longer so sure that, even if the future could be changed, if he was able to do it. People change - lose hope, lose faith in others, lose patience and so much more - what do you do when you're taken back into the past to fix things, but you don't believe that you can fix anything?))

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Summary: He died surrounded by the people he'd fought for years to save. Darkness could spread into the hearts of the people if they lived in it long enough. His death triggered his return in time though, but now he's not so sure if anyone can be saved at all.

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When he woke up, it was with a lot of noise. There was not so much bolting upright in his bed as making it half way before the tangled bedsheets stopped him and he flailed, tumbling off the bed with a choked off shout.

He'd died with blood on his face, on his knees on the wet stone cobbles. He remembered the torture as they tried to break him, remembered looking out at the crowd around him, exhausted and resigned to his fate. All those faces looking back at him, many looking just as resigned, just as tired, but far far more looking with blood lust in their eyes, shouting and jeering. By that point public executions weren't uncommon, especially for the more well-known faces of the resistance. That was what their society had descended to in just a few short years, it made him wonder sometimes why he was fighting at all.

But that was no way to think, especially not now. He hadn't come back here to waste this opportunity, no matter how much his faith in society - in humanity - had been damaged.

Because 'now' was synonymous with 'before'. Two years before, in fact - two years before his death, two years into the past. It wasn't far back in the scheme of things, but it was as far as he could go and he'd just have to hope it was enough. Knowing what was to come was a curse though - while the foreknowledge would definitely help him prevent what had happened from happening again, the horrors in his head... He shook his head to clear it, feeling his hair brush against his face. It was strange not to feel grime in his hair after so long living on the run and at the non-existent mercy of the Dark order. It did put him in the mind for a shower though - no matter how clean he was compared to his recent memories, taking a warm shower was something he'd not been able to do in months and he relished the chance.

Untangling himself from the sheets, he stood and looked around the room he was in. It was the Christmas hols, so he was in his room at Order Headquarters. It was just like he remembered it - dark blue walls, a large four-poster bed with the hangings tied to the posts. Dark wood furniture, only some of which had any of his belongings in it, and a few trinkets dotted around - not many, as he didn't keep much. If only he was the same as all this here, but he felt different, too different. The last year had changed him too much, he wondered if it was even possible to fix anything, especially given the changes in him.

When he'd first enacted the magic that would send him back in time, he'd been as he always was; determined, realistic but ultimately hopeful. It was part of why he'd been chosen to undergo the ritual. He wasn't that man any longer though - and anyone looking at him now would see the difference in him compared to just the day before. Now, he was without hope.

But he was here, and hope or not he had a job to do. He'd sent himself back and now he was here - he had to at least try. With that in mind the young man grabbed a change of clothes and headed across the hall to take a shower, mulling over in his head what steps he would need to take first. There were just so many things that had gone wrong in the future, he couldn't handle all of them - not in the least the people as a whole. Once the Dark Order had taken the government, the rest of the country just fell in line out of fear, accepting the changes that happened - descending into the darkness themselves. Their fear had forced them to keep their heads down, to give up their friends and allies to protect themselves, but it became so much worse than that before long. Perhaps evil really was contagious.

Shaking off such thoughts, the dark haired man finished up in the shower, intent on returning to his room. Anyone who knew him in this house would be able to tell the difference in him right now, would be able to see something was wrong, and he was in no shape to fend off their concerned inquiries. He'd been executed less than an hour ago in his memory, and it took some effort to shake something like that off. The shower helped, warming him and distracting him - it was good to be clean again, warm and alive despite the dark future ahead of them.

Rubbing a towel over his hair as he moved across the hallway to his room, he tried to remember how things were two years past for him. So much was different - for one, there were other people in this house. Last he'd been here it'd been empty - and half ruined by spell damage. They'd lost a lot of people when this place had been discovered. Trying to shake off such grim thoughts, he refocused; here and now, there were people, allies. They were Light for the most part, and in a way that was a problem - they were so light they had no idea how dark things would get. Having been more Grey in alignment, but always a Light ally, he sometimes clashed with them over methods and such - he disliked their 'kid gloves' mentality, even when dealing with the worst of criminals. Those who survived the next year would all be undeniably Grey at least, but right now they were all Light - and his Grey was far Darker than it used to be. Mercy wasn't something he'd been able to afford for a while now.

He could only put off seeing them for so long however, and he didn't want anyone coming up to check on him. As much as he may prefer to stay holed up in his room, realistically he wasn't going to be allowed to stay there for long without people coming up to ask after him. With that in mind, he reluctantly left the relative sanctuary of his room, warding it as he left so nobody would be able to enter - through the door at least - before doing so.

Downstairs he could hear voices bustling in the kitchen, forcing him to freeze in the hallway. Mrs Weasley's shrill tone, chastising one of her wayward children over something or other - he'd not heard her voice in a long time now. This house may be dark and dreary but the lightness of its occupants cut through it. He'd not heard such light-heartedness for some time himself.

It took him a moment to compose himself, and longer to convince himself that this was in any way a good idea. He couldn't come clean to them - they'd never believe him, and it could ruin everything if he did so. If the Dark Lord looked into their minds and saw the truth of him, he could barely consider the thought. If Voldemort knew that time travel was a possibility, they were all doomed.

He was abruptly pulled from his thoughts by Ginny Weasley rushing past him, excusing herself as she almost bowled him over, if he hadn't pressed himself to the side. Unnoticed by her, his wand had slid into his hand defensively but he wasn't so far gone as to have cast anything. A blessing truthfully - his idea of defensive was a bit more offensive than it used to be. "No problem." He muttered, resuming his walk towards the stairs and down to where the noise was coming from. He may as well show his face, get some breakfast and hopefully that'd satisfy the other occupants so they'd leave him alone for a bit to think.

In the future, they hadn't had much time to plan anything out. Honestly they weren't even too sure how much time that he would have. Most of their meetings had been about casting the magic rather than what to do once he got here, since they hadn't known when 'here' would be. He had a few outlines of ideas, or big things to try and stop if he could, but he was scarcely sure where to start. The ritual had been one cast out of desperation - that was the emotional component of it. They'd been so desperate, because there was no hope in the future. He had to try to do something, to stop things from going so wrong.

The first step though, was getting through breakfast. No easy task, considering how world-weary he felt, and how even the sounds of the voices of people he had seen lost was hard for him to bear. He grit his teeth all the same and stepped downstairs - now was the time for strength and determination. And if he couldn't be fueled by hope any longer, then desperation would be what drove him to stop what was to come.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: So apparently this isn't a one-shot any more lol. I don't know how much (if any) of this story will be forthcoming, I'm still considering it one-shot tho, but we'll see.

Beta'd by LadyChris

Harry was still stood in the hallway leading to the kitchen moments later. He couldn't bring himself to enter, to face the ghosts of his past, the people who he had lost and mourned and moved on from. Who all meant the best for him, but had spent most of his life telling him what to do and what he needed, who noticed and helped but ultimately always seemed to think their opinions overwrote his own.

He remembered the first time that he'd stepped into the kitchen a year from now and brought up using lethal force against the Dark Order, and the appalled silence his opinion resulted in. Nevermind how many of their own had been lost by that point, or how many innocents had been killed, nor the fact that the prisons were all empty of actual dark witches and wizards and instead hosted innocents. It was only after most of the softer members had died or hardened themselves that they'd agreed to stop casting bloody 'stupefy' at an enemy they couldn't hold and wouldn't stop.

The first thing he had to do, he thought, was get the hell out of this house.

There was just no way he was going to fool these people, who knew him so well that his sudden change in demeanour would be immediately noticeable. He couldn't hide it, and right now he didn't want to fuck things up for himself by trying to have a confrontation that he just couldn't cope with right now. Instead, Harry turned on his heel and slipped into a side room, avoiding the congregation of his allies entirely.

It'd crossed his mind that he could take his future knowledge and use it against his enemy – to destroy all those who had led to the awful future he'd come from. But he couldn't – it wouldn't work that way. Sure, he could kill the ringleaders, the people who had directly acted to bring about the time he'd come from, people like Voldemort, like Umbridge and Macnair but that wouldn't fix the problem. Just like with Grindelwald and Voldemort someone else would pop up, because they were just a symptom of the true problem; the people.

Even if he took out all the people who had directly led to the future where executions took place in the street, it wouldn't change that the people themselves had allowed it to happen. Whether through fear, or disregard or simple cruelty, the people of the British Isles had allowed evil to take root, to spread and foul the majority of the population.

Harry could keep chopping people down as long as he wanted, but it wouldn't remove the roots of those problems.

How then could he stop the future from happening? He pulled at his hair and paced aggressively from one side of the room to the other, wand in hand. It was a habit that he'd started a long time ago, but where he used to pace and gesture with his hands, now he always had his wand in his hand when he did it. He usually had his wand in hand actually, and it was why he had lived as long as he had in the end – simply being prepared (paranoid, but not without good cause.)

That was how Tonks found him, watching from the doorway where she'd come looking for him. At this stage he was only an acquaintance of the auror, but in the future they'd become more like comrades in arms. Tonks had seen enough in her job to be on his side about using lethal force, but had been summarily overruled along with him –as though their relative ages were the weighty factor against such a decision. She'd seen evil too in her line of work, and in her family history he supposed – she'd always been grey.

Last Harry had seen her she'd been splayed out across the cobbles a few months before he'd died himself, cut down with a blood boiling curse while trying to lead a rescue. At least she'd died quick, even if it wasn't painless. No-ones was, those days.

Looking at her now made him try and remember what was going on in the world right now. Harry had always kept a close tab on the recent events and would be expected to know what was going on – he couldn't be more obvious that something was wrong if he asked what was happening right now.

Instead he sighed, dropping his hands to his side (wand still in his grip but not aimed) and adopted a sheepish expression. It probably came out looking more like a grimace, but most things did for him now. "Did I miss anything?" He asked, because he could get away with asking that much at least, without raising suspicion.

Clearly aware that he was attempting to evade being questioned about what had gotten him so bothered in here, Tonks just sighed, arms folded over her chest. "Not much." She informed him unhelpfully. "There's rumors of some kind of pureblood ward though, but nothing concrete. Rumors alone are worrying enough though." Because someone had to be spreading them, and truth or lies they'd get a reaction. People were already afraid. Truthfully the wards weren't too complex themselves, it was the execution of them that was most difficult. Technically though, they weren't so different from the age line Dumbledore had created around the goblet of fire – the principles were the same.

At least that was something to go on though. Harry remembered that when the wards that detected pureblood heritage had come about, the hunts began in earnest and executions had followed shortly afterwards. Things were already dire right now, but not doomed yet. There was still some time to take action before things went back to the hell he'd come from.

There was one thing for sure though – he was definitely not going back to Hogwarts this time. It was his last year, and all he knew was that things had been bad while he was still there but by the time he finished things were almost unsalvageable. No, he had to avoid getting stuck at Hogwarts – and wasn't that just another problem for him to deal with? No doubt there'd be people all over his case about going back rather than listening to what he had to say or giving his words the weight they deserved.

Idly he wondered if anyone would believe him if he actually came out with the truth – that he had come from two years into the future and it wasn't one he wanted to return to.

That was what was going to drive him, he realised. He didn't need hope, all he needed was determination not to live through that again. Anything was better really. He had already lost most of his scruples and he didn't really care to fight his own side, but he didn't necessarily have to. Sure it'd help to have their support but he didn't delude himself in thinking he'd get it, and it'd just waste his time trying. No, he should focus where he could be successful. He didn't need them to change, or accept him – he had changed for them, and would act for them, so they wouldn't have to.

Instead he rapidly began making plans for the future. He'd have to move fast – every moment counted when he didn't know what started the moral apocalypse that had become the future. Things had gone so bad so fast, he had to either stop it or at least prevent it from snowballing so spectacularly.

"I need you to cover for me Tonks."

She looked surprised at him, but Harry just looked back at her seriously. It was a risk, letting her know something was going on at all nevermind having her cover for him, but he wasn't going to be able to slip out without someone saying something, and the hype about protecting the boy-who-lived was ridiculous at this stage, from what he recalled. She was here anyway and was his best bet regardless at making headway without too much opposition or overruling. Tonks always had been good at playing along, even if it meant dragging him into a closet to call him out about it after the fact.

"I need to get to Gringotts and I can't afford to put it off or draw attention to myself." If there were already rumors of the pureblood ward he didn't have much time. The ministry wouldn't fall over Christmas but it wouldn't last a whole lot longer – the ministry atrium would be the first place the ward was erected and Diagon alley, and thus Gringotts by proxy would follow in short order. Things had become distinctly unpleasant for 'their side' when hardly anyone could get to their money without triggering the ward and getting detained. Supplies had been scarce and they'd had to rely almost exclusively on supplies from the muggle world – which worked for getting groceries, but was no help at all when it came to anything magical that they needed to heal or fight with.

No, he wasn't going to be caught unprepared this time.

"I dunno Harry – its pretty risky. Tell you what though – I've got some errands to run and I'll tell the rest that I'm taking you out to your vault." Clearly she knew better than to take him at his word – nobody went to Gringotts without stopping by the shops as well. Busted, but at least she was game for covering for him, even if she was tagging along. He wasn't going to get a better deal than that and they both knew it.

"Alright." He accepted, not entirely happy but grateful all the same.

"Maybe you'd like to tell me what brought along an abrupt desire to visit the goblins hey? No? Alright then. I'll meet you by the fire in five."

Giving her a nod, Harry watched her leave to go get ready and slipped back up the stairs to make ready himself. He didn't need to do much to be honest, he had very little he could use to take with him, which was half the reason he was going.

He was waiting under a glamour by the time Tonks arrived at the fireplace. She did a quick double-take at his appearance but gave a satisfied nod and morphed her own features to look unlike herself. "Good thinking casting before we leave." Gringotts wouldn't like it, but they'd accept people under glamours as long as their identity was verified. Casting here meant Harry's spell wouldn't penetrate the townhouse's wards. He wasn't worried about his disguise though – they'd all had to get proficient with them in the future.

If anything his skill was clearly noticed by Tonks but she didn't call him out on it yet, likely waiting to see what he was going to do before she stepped in for an explanation. She made a good second, though it was only in the last few months of her life that he'd really discovered that for himself. Until then he'd mostly stuck with his own year mates, until they all died or disappeared anyway.

Harry refocused his attention on the fledgling plan in his head as the pair stepped through the floo to Diagon. The place wasn't full of bustling cheer as it had been in his younger years, but at least the streets weren't patrolled by Dark wizards as it was in the future. The pair traipsed up to Gringotts, in silence and Tonks let him take the lead up to the teller, shifting back to fall in his shadow.

"May I speak to my account holder, Knackfang please." Harry's request sounded less like asking and more like a statement but the goblin didn't seem bothered either way. With a grouchy "Name?" to which Harry answered honestly, if quietly, he was led down a side hallway by another goblin, Tonks on his heels.

It wasn't strictly proprietary for non-family members to include themselves into banking business but he knew that she wouldn't leave his side without it costing him more later and honestly there was nothing she could do or say to change anything he was going to do next- the goblins wouldn't allow it or care.

The office they were escorted to wasn't far, and wasn't huge either but it was enough for them all to sit down. The goblin Knackfang was finishing up some correspondence and ignored them entirely as they sat down upon the uncomfortable guest chairs opposite his own luxurious one, tucked behind his desk. Goblins were dicks, but Harry could understand the desire to make wizards and witches uncomfortable, given the history between them.

"Goblin Knackfang, I am here as a courtesy to inform you that it is my intention to remove the majority of the Potter and Black money and holdings from the bank this day." That certainly got the goblin's attention, and not in a good way. It would have been even worse to just do it and not say anything though – that way led to grudges. "This is due to inter-wizarding issues and is not a reflection on the bank at all." It kind of was though, because Gringotts had done fuck all for the people who couldn't access their money once the wards came up, and refused to make any alternative arrangements for them.

"It is my hope that this is to be a temporary issue and that once the situation is resolved then my money and items will return to the vaults here. To that end I have no problem paying a small fee for keeping those vaults open and waiting for my return." He still wasn't sure if he actually would or not, but best not to burn bridges and the goblins would be less likely to try and screw him over if there was hope of his business returning to the bank.

"Hrm, yes, this ward business I suppose." The goblin grunted at him and Harry was momentarily frozen. Of course they wouldn't have been the only ones to catch the rumors, but he'd never known that the goblins had heard them too. It made his anger bubble up at the thought of them knowing in advance but doing nothing. They hadn't warned anyone who may have been affected, had done nothing at all. Harry had known that there were issues between the goblins and the humans – who didn't? But they had left the non-purebloods to starve, because if they couldn't get to it then the bank would get to keep that money.

Harry's problems just expanded. He'd thought that dealing with the magical populace was big enough, but now he had the goblins to consider as well. He'd have to think on the problem.

For now though he pasted on a smile (grimace) and apologised for the trouble. He assured Knackfang that any contracts, shares and holdings of that nature could remain handled through the bank but that he'd be taking the actionbook with him (literally a book which recorded data on the shares etc., which he could take action with if need be, such as sell shares.) This clearly disgruntled the goblin, but he'd made his request and as the owner, they had no right to deny him.

That done Harry stood up, gave the goblin a nod, and left the small office without a word. Such abruptness was the norm for goblins and Harry wasn't about to waste time on pleasantries anyway.

Outside the office was the goblin who'd escorted them, ready to lead them back again. This time they took a different hallway off from the main foyer, to where the carts waited. Tonks continued to follow him into the cart, and seemed to enjoy the ride even if she was clearly mulling over what she was witnessing right now. It wouldn't take long for her to start trying to figure out his motivation – Harry had been very reactive in his actions until he felt he had to push for information, so this was a little out of character for him.

Still, she said nothing as they arrived at the first vault. Here he pulled out a small pouch, from which he drew out a backpack (which clearly shouldn't have fit in the pouch but did anyway.) It took only a few spells for the backpack to start being filled with gold and objects from the vault – all the money and the books went first, clearing away a huge chunk of space. Finally able to look around at what was left Harry didn't spend a whole lot of time on it, though he did take a look at some of the trunks left lying around.

In the end everything was stashed away in space-expanded bags and the like, until the large cave was empty. There was nothing strictly special that he pulled out of the vault but he could look through it later and see what was useful. For now he repeated the process in his trust vault and the Black vault (both in separate bags pulled out of the pouch, though they were satchels instead of backpacks.)

By the time he was finished, he was wearing all three bags – the backpack on his back, the two satchels crossing over his chest on opposite sides. He spelled them invisible and left the vaults, and it was with some relief that the pair finally left the bank altogether.

"Alright there Harry?" Tonks asked lightly as they left, clearly curious but holding it back – the middle of the street was hardly the place for that discussion.

"Yeah, just got a few things to buy, then we can go." He assured, leading them unerringly towards a shop tucked away from the main concourse.

Harry proceeded to buy great swathes of magic-resistant fabrics; dragon hides and the like, along with just as much spidersilk. The silk would be easy to imbue with magic, meaning that the armour made out of the magic-resistant stuff would not only repel magic, but still be able to hold enchantments within the thread itself. In the future they'd had to go hunting for these things themselves – braving the forbidden forest for the spiders and the dragon reserve in Wales for the skins. He'd rather avoid that this time, if he could.

Harry's next obscure act was to buy out all the available house-elves for sale. It was expensive – between the fabric, silk and elves he literally emptied his entire trust vault and had to dip into the main Potter vault money.

By now Tonks was clearly thrumming with questions – whatever she may have been expecting from this trip, it wasn't this. She managed to hold back her questions through the elf purchase and the next shop too (a book shop) until her patience began to really run out and Harry was pretty much done anyway. Just one last stop.

Buying property in the magical world was a bit odd – because so many properties were in muggle areas, there were loads of laws about what you could do. For the most part if you were going to cast spells in or on a property, you had to get it through an official estate agent so they could cast the right enchantments. Of course, this basically meant that muggleborn families were screwed, because it wasn't legal for them to cast spells on the house, or have overt traces of magic, instead they would have to buy an entirely new house through a magical estate agent. For magical families they could just get their houses warded and protected, but muggles weren't allowed.

Honestly it just seemed like another way to keep the muggleborns oppressed – they weren't able to cast the ward that would conceal wand-use from the ministry, for example. Magical houses did come set up with standard protections though, in the form of a ward stone buried beneath the property. Such a thing was the key reason why buying a pre-prepared house was important, but while it was taxing to place in a muggleborn house, it was certainly possible.

Regardless, Harry was here because some of the available properties would be useful for him, and not in the least because it'd give him somewhere to go that wasn't bloody Grimmauld. The ward stone was important too, and it was far far easier to hide a building that already had one, than to buy a muggle house and try and place a ward stone within it. Ward stones were complex runework and arithmancy, not to mention the casting power required to imbue one properly.

Instead Harry bought several houses of different sizes, spending another big chunk of his funds. The houses were scattered about the Isles, but they were all, with the exclusion of one, very small, single occupancy houses. Warding them would be the next step, but he definitely wouldn't have time to do it today unless Tonks didn't kick up a fuss, but that was unlikely.

He did have more errands to run but the most important ones had begun – he was stocked up with magical supplies and books, homes and money to buy more. Ideally he'd wanted to slip into the muggle world too, but it'd be taking the piss with Tonks to try that now. In the future their small rebellion had ended up living on a houseboat – easier to conceal and enchant than a house, when they didn't have a house to use. He'd rather gotten used to the cramped space, to the rocking motion of the water beneath them. It'd proven incredibly useful for sneaking about the Isles later on, and he'd like to get one – or a couple – again this time to use as mobile bases.

Honestly, Harry had only half an idea of what he was going to do with all this – he was hoping to prevent needing any of it but preparing as if he would. Now that he had the most important supplies though, he was able to go to ground and work on researching a way to prevent the future he'd come from, without being worried about not being prepared in case he failed.

Tonks clearing her throat behind him made it clear that preventing that future would have to wait however – first he'd have to deal with his own immediate future, and just what he was going to say to explain all this.


End file.
